First Hand Gezi

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

We are not those provocateurs with clubs in their hands – breaking
the glasses of the banks, vandalizing the streets, making fires, provoking the
people in the street making them go here and there. Yes, it is true that I was
in the protests that have been going on for a couple of days in Izmir. I was
with people who were thinking just like me. It was really nice, we were having
fun, just like in a festival. But when the cops showed up, the festival ended. But
why? Why did they attack innocent people, instead of those provocateurs trying
to overcast a shadow over the protests?

I’m writing this piece with one hand. I don’t care how much
pain I’m going through.

People have been suffering for days. They have been
breathing in poison. They are getting beaten up. People are severely wounded.
Although the media is covering it up, there are deaths. I was at the Gundogdu
Square for one reason. It didn’t matter for whomever person. For whatever
political party, for whatever football team; we had medicine in our bags, and
we were determined to help those who needed help. It was me and a couple of
friends, and all we did, until 12, was to hang out on the grass. Then, we got
cold and approached a couple of people who had made a fire. We got warm by
their fire, and then left them. Then, everything happened. The police started
using tear gas, and it was impossible to see anything. Everyone was scattered
to another direction. I was left right behind the statue in the middle of the
square, and got down on the ground.

I am not a provocateur, nor a terrorist.

I just waited for the tear gas to go away. Just when I was
planning to find my friends whom I lost in the commotion, I fell down with a
blow to my head. I was receiving heavy blows with clubs on every part of my
body – to my head, my arms, my legs, on my back. I managed to open my eyes and
saw that they were 7 people. I don’t remember what they were saying, because I
was getting hit nonstop. I passed out. I regained consciousness with another
blow to my head, and at that moment, around 10 cops started to hit me with
batons and clubs. I passed out again.

How can a person with no means to defend herself be treated like this?

I begged a police officer, pleading him not to do this. This
was his answer: either play dead, or run away while getting beaten. I chose to
run away. Apparently, they had beaten up my other friends, too. I managed to
find my friends, the two of them, as I was running. We took cover under the
picked-up tables of a closed café. Then, a woman let us in her home.

I managed to regain some of my composure there…

It’s 3 am in the morning. I am at the hospital. My left
wrist is broken. My right leg bone is slightly fractured. There are 25 baton
and club marks on my body – these are the visible marks that we were able to
count. My whole skin is purple. My left cheekbone is slightly swolen and red –
not to mention the blows I received to my head.

I got the battery report from the hospital.

There are evidence and witnesses regarding that I was almost
beaten to death by people who were members of the Police Force, and by people
who weren’t.

I thought a blog that keeps track of the first hand accounts/narratives of the protesters who have been through lots of stuff in Istanbul, and in many other cities of Turkey since the resistance in Taksim Gezi Park has started 8 days ago.

So, if anyone has an objection, they can comment on it. If the translations seem like they are hastily made, that's because they are. I'm open to any editing offers, suggestions, etc.